


Self-Domesticated

by DarkestAffinity



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Pick-Up Lines, Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:02:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkestAffinity/pseuds/DarkestAffinity
Summary: Despite Vesemir's disapproval and much to Lambert's delight, Eskel had invited a young Witcher from the School of Cat who had saved his life to come winter at Kaer Morhen.Geralt thought himself prepared.Nothing could prepare him for Jaskier.orJaskier keeps rolling for seduction and landing on one. Perhaps if he rolls enough times those ones will add up to something successful.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 60
Kudos: 291





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you notice any mistakes, please tell me. I can't feel anymore embarrassed than I already do.

There was a strange tension in Kaer Morhen and Geralt was regretting coming back early.

While work was harder to find due to a certain fight, involving a certain princess, at a certain town, Geralt had landed himself lucky a handful of weeks ago. He had been in Temeria and had found a notice calling for a Witcher to a lord’s house. To the lord’s dismay, it was the Butcher that had shown up, but he was too desperate to turn Geralt down. It turned out that nobody had been harvesting the fields due to a wraith infestation. A jealous man had killed the lady of his affections right before she was supposed to be wed to his brother it turned out. She had ended up turned into a particularly powerful noonwraith, and had attracted other, smaller wraiths too her. It would have been a quicker job if people were more cooperative, but by the end, Geralt had been paid a large sum by the relieved lord. Frost was loitering around the corner to destroy his crops. It also told Geralt that it was almost time to leave for his winter home, but Geralt thought it would be best to leave for it immediately, and not waste this boon.

So Geralt had set off on Roach, picking up winter supplies for the keep (as well as some stuff Geralt thought could go towards repairing the keep a little) from a nearby town. He set off, taking the unruly path up to Kaer Morhen early. He was happy to see that there were already day-old tracks. He now regretted ever considering coming early. Clear skies, green grass, and not below-freezing temperatures were not worth the hostile atmosphere he was now stuck in.

Vesemir and Eskel were on eggshells around each other, and Lambert wasn't even here yet. Lambert wasn’t even here yet. Between the four wolves remaining that would return to the keep for each winter, Lambert was the one to cause the most tension if there ever were any. So Geralt found this unexpected. But as of current, whenever Vesemir walked into a room that Eskel and Geralt were using, Eskel would belong fled. Everyone could hear each other coming, they were witches after all and this was supposed to be the one place where they didn’t have to walk with stealth. When Geralt did manage to catch them in a room together, Vesemir would shake his head and click his tongue in a manner Geralt hadn’t ever heard directed at Eskel, and Eskel would send him a glare full of sliver and steel and then a staring contest would ensue. Geralt isn’t sure anyone walked away winners for that. Or why Eskel’s usual level-headedness had turned into Lambert levels of pent up rage. It was clear to Geralt that something had happened in the one-day Eskel had arrived before Geralt. It has been like this now for four days. Geralt was finding more hairs left on his pillow than usual. 

Geralt really didn't want to be involved. He really didn't.

But he couldn't spend the next four months like this. He would go bald. He came here to de-stress not re-stress.

With that resolve, he knew he needed to get to the bottom of whatever argument or disagreement Eskel and Vesemir had had. That meant talking. Communication.

Geralt wasn’t above using his words. But when someone is trying to hide information important to his contract or quest, he could usually axii them or give them a good glare. Like that one boy that kept challenging him to a duel over some fair maiden's hand that Geralt couldn’t really care less about. One wave of his hand and his problems were solved. He couldn’t approach Eskel or Vesemir like that. Not only were they the closes things he had to family, but those strategies wouldn’t work. Geralt had to be old-fashioned. These were the few people Geralt could, wanted to, and had to treat with understanding.  
  


It was a relatively cloudless day being day or two away from the winter solace. A few layers of snow had already fallen upon the keep being so high in the mountains, but green still was writhing through in a valiant attempt to reach the sun. The air up here was crisp, the wind wasn’t howling, but spending too long facing it would leave you feeling raw. Geralt found Eskel leaning between the crenellations at the top of the low tower that overlooked the path up to the keep, as well as the courtyard.

“Eskel.” Geralt nodded from a few paces away.  
  
“Geralt,” Eskel replied. He took one last lingering look at the path before turning to face Geralt who was now leaning against the stone crenellation next to him. Geralt could tell that he still wasn’t one hundred per cent comfortable speaking to others when they could only see the left side of his face.  
  
“Looking out for Lambert? Didn’t know you were such great friends.” Geralt tried to tease the odd situation out. He arched an eyebrow when Eskel’s shoulders tensed.  
  
“Not Lambert.” Eskel rolled his head, trying to ease out the tension in his body to no use, “I’ve invited someone here.”   
  
“Is that what you and Vesemir are having a tiff about?” Well, Geralt doesn’t praise himself on subtly.  
  
Eskel shook his head at Geralt’s words and tapped a foot against the pale stone a few times before pacing forward and back. “Mostly.” Another round of pacing and then, “I owed him one Geralt. He needed a place to winter.” Not too unusual thought Geralt. While rare, it does occasionally happen that Witchers bring back someone to help keep them warm.  
  
“What’s the problem then?”  
  
“He’s from Cat.”

Geralt still remembered. He could still feel the sun on his back, the feeling in his chest. How heavy, and tight it had become. The breath escaping his lungs and not coming back. The air drying his eyes out, unable to look away as the blades he thought were allies fell upon his brethren at the perfect moment during the Witcher tournaments. Perhaps it should have been expected. There were always brawls and arguments, but they were all monsters created to fulfil the same purpose. It shouldn’t have happened. It was a slaughter on both sides. The king back then wasn’t just after the wolves, so the Cats had thought, he was after them as well. Geralt may have escaped the pogrom with Mousesack’s help, but Geralt carried the scars of that moment with him still.

Geralt breathed the mountain air into his burning lungs, and found himself back at the keep.

“Cats aren’t allowed here. You know that Eskel.”  
  
“I do. But he’s different. Got contracted to take out a mated pair of griffins, and managed to get caught between four having a territory dispute. If he hadn’t shown up Geralt, I would be stewing in four different stomachs.”  
  
Geralt snorted. “Why was he even there.”  
  
Eskel gave a half-smile. “He was following me like an overly excited hound since he saw me at a tavern. Was begging for me to tell him stories and tips. He’s pretty young. ”  
  
“Hmmhm.”  
  
“If Lambert was here he would back me up.”

Everyone had come to know about Lambert’s Cat friend Aiden. Vesemir has given him many warnings, but Lambert remains adamant, stubborn, and loyal to the man he calls his best friend. Insisting that Aiden wasn’t like the other Cats. It seems Eskel has joined the same bandwagon.

“I thought you would too, Geralt.” Eskel continued in the silent moment that Geralt had given while he was thinking. “You would know all about unfair labels, Butcher.”

Geralt could see where Eskel was trying to come from, but Geralt knows he had truly earned that name, and would forever wear it like a brand. Geralt leaned in a little closer, trying to really peer into Eskel’s familiar Cat eyes. They met his for a moment, before Eskel turned around to look over the path again. Eskel was really pulling at straws trying to win Geralt over and Geralt took a minute to remind himself. While Lambert was hotheaded and rebellious, and thus his calls in character left room for doubt, Eskel wasn’t like Lambert. Eskel was calm, collected. Always praised for his level-headedness from Vesemir, something he took pride in. Eskel was reliable, and not moved by his emotions.

Geralt let out a sigh that had been building up in his chest the moment Eskel had said four.

“You say he’s different?” Geralt moved off the wall and stepped closer to Eskel’s side.

“He is.” Eskel replied. His voice was steady.

Geralt clapped his hand onto Eskel’s shoulder. “We’ll see.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet.

Lambert arrived during the middle of the next day, bringing about fresh snow and a howl in the wind. The sky had been dark all morning, and Geralt could already feel time passing differently. 

“What a warm welcome!” Lambert said with his arms wide. “It is, as always, lovely to see your scowling faces.” Lambert had walked in on them at the dining hall eating lunch. 

“It’s nice to see you too Lambert,” Eskel said from his spot at the table.  
“I thought we were missing the salt at the table.” Geralt replied in his usual deadpan.  
“Ah yes, I may be our resident ass but we all know who the resident smartass is,” Lambert replied as he stepped around Geralt with a slap on his shoulder, taking the seat next to Geralt.

“That leaves me as the smarts.” Eskel laughed, earning a chuckle from Geralt and Lambert.  
“So tell me, why isn’t Vesemir in here having lunch too? I wanna see the old bastard.”  
“Hmm.” Geralt said, passing on the talking to Eskel.  
Eskel sent Geralt a halfhearted glare before looking back over to Lambert. “We had a disagreement.”  
“You!” Lambert shook his head. “No way. You’re like… Vesemir’s favourite.” He laughed and, “I’m even sure he would let you bring a cat or a viper into the keep if you asked!”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Wait,” Lambert glanced between the two older witchers. “No way. And he doesn’t approve? Which one? Which one?”  
Eskel let out a little cough. “Cat.”  
“Cat! You being careful Eskel? Not all cats are trustworthy like Aiden you know?”  
“I know. I trust Jaskier.” Eskel put down his spoon.  
“Jaskier? Tell me more about him. How did you meet?”

Eskel told him his recount of how the two griffins turned into four, and Jaskier coming to his rescue.

“I was about to be toast.” Eskel nodded. Lambert nodded back. Geralt nodded. They all looked at each other, nodding.  
“Thank Nehaleni for that then. Maybe if Jaskier goes well I can bring Aiden next winter.” Lambert said. It didn’t break the nodding.

Just as Eskel opened his mouth, about to say more about Jaskier undoubtedly, all the witchers turned their heads towards the door.

Someone was shouting.

Geralt stared down forlornly at the warm stew in his bowl. He couldn’t miss this introduction but the food would be cold when he got back. Unless…

Geralt tipped the bowl back and quickly drank the stew before getting up and following his brothers outside.

“I am so terribly lost!” Shouted a man whom Geralt guessed was probably Jaskier, from the entrance of the keep. He had with him a light grey horse. “When he told me it was a keep I wasn’t expecting something quite so huge! This is a castle, to be honest!” He continued making noise.

“That’s him?” Lambert asked.  
“That’s him.” Eskel replied.

Nobody moved as the Cat continued shouting out various ‘hellos’ and ‘anybody theres'. 

“He’s rather skinny, ain't he?” Lambert seemed a little confused as he gazed upon the Cat. Skinny, tall, and dressed like a peacock. Why all the blue? The hat was ridiculous. His armour was stylish.  
“Light on his feet. Fast with a sword.” Eskel tried to defend.  
“Hmm.” Geralt agreed. Even from where they were standing, Geralt could tell that the other witcher had long, long legs. Probably a good stride.  
“One would think you can’t miss him with those colours.” Lambert jested. Eskel let out a small chuckle before lifting up his hand to wave.

“Jaskier!” Eskel yelled out.  
“Eskel!” Was the cheerful and loud reply. “Where do I put Pegasus? How do I get to you you’re awfully far away. Or maybe you could come down here?”  
“Big lungs.” Geralt commented.  
“Big lungs.” Eskel nodded.

Everyone made their way down to the courtyard Jaskier was in. It was a bit of a walk, and by the time they got to Jaskier, he was strumming a lute. Geralt decided to hang around the doorway while Eskel and Lambert went over to him.

“Never heard of a witcher playing an instrument,” Lambert said instead of an introduction.

“This one does! For espionage.” Jaskier wiggled his eyebrows.  
“Maybe no talking of business this winter Jaskier?” Eskel suggested as he went in for a clap on the back. Jaskier went in for a hug instead. It was awkward to watch, but Eskel seemed unaffected by it.  
“Yes yes. No business talking. See me talking? No business. I do no business and I talk no business.” Jaskier bumbled as he pulled away from the hug.

The Cat was excited, Geralt thought. Overly excited. He was a vibrating, sunny thing in a cold den of wolves. Geralt wasn’t enthused to go over, even if the Cat’s behaviour had him bemused. Lambert seemed excited to meet another Cat that was a friend of a Wolf.

“Clearly.” Lambert injected himself back into the Cat's orbit. “Names Lambert. You’ve made quite the stir apparently.”  
“Oh?”  
“Hm. First thing me and my brothers talked about when I arrived just an hour or so ago. Seems like you’ve left a bit of a rift between us and the old master.”  
“That’s a little nerve-wracking to hear, if I’m honest. And brothers? Who am I missing?”  
“That would be Geralt, who is standing in the doorway. Geralt, come over here and help Jaskier stable his horse.” Eskel gestured him over.

Geralt could see what Eskel was trying to do. Geralt has a soft spot for horses that Eskel is clearly trying to exploit.

It isn’t working. And that’s why Geralt isn’t making his way over to where Jaskier and his horse stands. Except he is. His two brothers part and leave Geralt standing in the middle.

Jaskier is sort of just staring at him. His mouth briefly doing an impression of a fish before remaining softly open. Geralt takes note that Jaskier is almost as tall as him and that he doesn’t have to look down to look him in the eyes. Jaskier’s very similar, witcher eyes, that are staring at Geralt with wide eyes.

A smell enters Geralt’s nose that reminds him of his first time eating pomegranates. A sweet yet too bitter taste, flavoursome to the point of too much.

The staring is continuing too long. Lambert’s head is switching back and forth so much Geralt’s worried his brain is going to knock on his skull one too many times. Eskel has just crossed his arms, amusement written plain as day on his face.

“Hmm.” Geralt tries to break the silence. It actually works.

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?” Jaskier delivers with a weird lit in his tone. 

Geralt has heard and seen enough.

“He can’t stay here.” Geralt said, turning to Eskel.  
“He’s not usually likely this,” Eskel said, squinting at the Cat. He has a smile on his face though. Geralt feels betrayed.

“That would be correct!” Jaskier said, pointing a finger to the sky, “I just so happen…” He swoons towards Geralt. Geralt steps back. “Owwww! Ahh fuck. That hurt.” Wisped up from Jaskier’s position on the ground.

Geralt stepped over him. He was much more interested in the light grey stallion- gelding, a quick look underneath reveals. It has powerful hindquarters and a regal head that Geralt takes a moment to admire. He is pretty sure that there is a riding school that only uses this breed of horse. He took the reins and was disappointed to see the complete look of disinterest in the horse's eyes however. While the trek up to Kaer Morhen can be quite taxing on a horse, this one showed no signs of being tired. Geralt doubts it was even pushed a little hard to get here. A lazy horse was always the worst to travel with, no matter the conformation of the horse, in Geralt’s opinion. One too many times a lazy horse had cost him a bit of blood or time.

“Falling for you! I’m falling for you.” Said the ground. Geralt wasn’t looking down to check.

Geralt leads the horse towards where all the other horses are stabled. If this… horrible flirter who is making Geralt’s brothers laugh hysterically at him wants to know where his horse and currently his stuff are being kept he will have to follow.

Much to Geralt’s dismay, the Probably-A-Spy does follow him. Geralt tries to ignore him by patting the gelding's roman nose. Geralt wanted to get to the stables faster but the horse was already dragging his feet.

“Do you like him? His name is Pegasus. I haven’t had him for very long, but that doesn’t mean we haven’t developed an eternal bond! It’s actually quite the story how I got him see, I was doing a contract at a lord’s manor and-”  
“No business.” Geralt cut him off.  
“Oh ho. No, no business that was all pleasure.” Geralt saw Jaskier flashed him a grin that Geralt bet Jaskier thought was seductive. “Speaking of ple-”  
“Grab your stuff,” Geralt interrupted once again. Jaskier looked down at himself. Geralt didn’t even try to feel out what train of thought had lead to that action. “From the horse.” He corrected.  
“Oh, yes right. Of course.”

This was Geralt’s chance.

He made a speed walk for it, but a sudden blur reveals the Cat in front of him. 

“Listen this is my first time here and I am going to get lost, so let’s cut to the chase. Give me directions to your bedroom?”

No. No no nonono.

The brief glimmer of hope in Jaskier’s eyes when Geralt’s hand is placed upon his shoulder is obliterated, Geralt notices, when he pushes him into the stall with his horse so Geralt can get out the stables.

The cold air was welcomed on his hot face. His Lambert’s breathless laughter and Eskel’s half-smile were not.  
“How did you meet him again?” Geralt asked.  
“He followed me, begging for stories, relentlessly, which lead to him being there in a moment of weakness.”  
“He’s gonna badger Geralt into a moment of weakness, that’s for sure.” Lambert chuckled.

Geralt hmmed and speed-walked away before the Cat made a reappearance. 

If he took a long route to his bedroom, well, Kaer Morhen is very beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were you expecting pickup lines? No? Me neither but it is gonna be a staple from here on out.
> 
> Also I made a writing Tumblr?? Go check doesn't have much on it but it is a much better way to message me if you ever wanna talk o(*^▽^*)o
> 
> https://darkestaffinitywrites.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After getting angry at having to hack down plants, Geralt steps into the library to read about plant-based monsters and how to destroy them to soothe his angry nerves.
> 
> Jaskier invites himself to Geralt's lap.

Come morning, Geralt was hungry. That wasn’t okay. Geralt was at Kaer Morhen. He was home, surrounded by people he trusted. People he use to trust.

Eskel is on his shit list now.

“Didn’t see you at dinner last night, Geralt. Too shy?” Lambert teased.  
“Move out my way.” Lambert was blocking the door to the kitchen. Clearly, he was aiming to get on Geralt’s shit list too.  
“I think he is gonna be good for you,” Lambert said as he stepped out the doorway, and instead was now matching Geralt’s stride. Geralt could guess who ‘he’ was.  
“Hmm.” Geralt said in place of a reply. He wasn’t commenting on that. He had porridge with Lil Bleater’s milk to make. If Eskel was going to… terrorize? No, witchers don’t get terrorized. Hmmmenaced. If Eskel was going to menace him with that joke of a witcher, like who was Jaskier kidding? Witchers don’t use pick up lines. Anyway if Eskel was going to menace him with that fool than Geralt was taking advantage of the milk he stores.  
“I mean, yesterday was amazing. When was the last time you saw Eskel so merry?”

Geralt’s thoughts about his petty revenge via goats milk halted. Lambert had a point. Eskel’s mouth had been smiling, not just one of his eyes while the other tried to remain stiff that he had been doing since that princess gave him his scars. Geralt noticed the change is Eskel after. Perhaps everyone noticed. Wait.

Is that why the Cat was here?

For Eskel’s sake?

Well maybe-

“Hopefully he takes the stick out your ass too eh?”

-no.

“Hmm.” Geralt tried to dismiss Lambert as he began to cook his porridge with a small _igni_.  
“I’m taking that as an agreement that ‘yes Lambert, I do want to get railed by the new kitty in the keep.’ Or maybe it’s the other way I don’t know maybe you-”

Wiping off the look on Lambert’s smug-ass face with a pots-worth amount of porridge was satisfying until Lambert started swearing at Geralt. Geralt also realised that he would have to cook again.

There was no winning, he thought as Lambert started taking the porridge off his face and flicking it at Geralt. There was no winning.

Geralt’s morning was mostly spent removing plants that were threatening Kaer Morhen and by the end (a little before noon) Geralt had ended up the library. Was the library related to the plant removing? Not especially. But hacking away with an axe at a tree whose roots had been wrecking a path had given Geralt time to think. Specifically about monster plants, like those giant venus flytraps that could eat a man, and possible ways to destroy them. So here Geralt was with the bestiary, discovering that sadly, many plant monsters were actually cursed folk who needed rescue, destroying any hope of Geralt being able to torch them.

Geralt tasted the smell of overly ripe pomegranates, but he had hoped his position behind this bookcase in this giant chair that made even Geralt feel small would hide him but alas, hiding from another witcher was hard if you weren’t doing it to the extreme.

“You would think that the wolf pack would all rise and eat together, but apparently the wolves of Kaer Morhen roam alone.”

Nothing ruined a good book study like an uninvited guest.

“Vesemir cooks lunch for everyone.” Geralt told Jaskier.

Look, Geralt might not like the idiot one bit, but if he was here for Eskel then Geralt might be tempted to put in a bit of an effort again and that might include talking to the Thing in a way that is somewhat civil. He had already gone against Vesemir on this for Eskel, he might want to make it count.

Not that Vesemir wasn’t coming around. When he approached Geralt last night with things he wanted Geralt to do today, he had inquired about the Cat.

_“What was he like?” Vesemir had asked._   
_“Horrible.”_   
_Vesemir raised his eyebrow at Geralt._   
_“He..” Geralt really needed to get across how terrible this Cat was going to be to his health. “Asked if he should walk by again.”_   
_Vesemir looked perplexed._   
_“Or do I believe in love at first sight.” Geralt further explained, prompted by the silence._   
_“And?” Both of Vesemir’s eyebrows were raised now._   
_“Everybody laughed.” Geralt huffed._   
_“Not what I was asking, and not really what I was expecting, but I think you’ve explained the situation adequately,” Vesemir patted Geralt on the back. “Stay safe, Geralt. Make sure you have protection.”_   
_“Hmm.” Geralt was already going to sleep with a dagger under his pillow._

Geralt felt like sleeping with a dagger under his pillow was something that shouldn’t happen at Kaer Morhen with his most trusted brothers, but he felt, at this moment, it was justified by the way the Cat ran his hand from the one corner of the top of the chair to the other as an anchor as he slinked around to face Geralt.

“Hello.” Jaskier purred, looking down at Geralt, his other hand coming to rest on the armrest of the chair, boxing Geralt in.

If the chair hadn’t made Geralt feel small, Jaskier certainly made sure he felt that way anyway.

“Hmm.” Smart, Geralt. Don’t play into his hands by using words. Stay away from words.  
“Is this spot taken?” Jaskier pointed to Geralt’s lap.  
Geralt stared at Jaskier before looking down at the bestiary in his lap and then back at Jaskier.  
Apparently, that was an invitation and Jaskier placed himself sideways on Geralt’s lap. Geralt stiffened and hissed. This imbecile is getting on his last nerves. This wasn’t okay.

Jaskier made a show of keeping his hands on his lap, his fingers spread out on his thighs that, Geralt couldn’t help but notice, looked very nice in the dark blue and dark brown leather of the cat school armour. Geralt couldn't also help but notice that Jaskier had forgone the usual leather chest armour, leaving just the soft, thick, dark blue turtleneck that made Jaskier look soft. Even the focused stare in the Cat’s blue witcher eyes, analysing him, still didn’t distract from his soft looking face. Geralt felt that he could wrap his arms around him it would be welcoming, warm, and Geralt could just sit in a chair with his legs up in front of a fire, just getting to hold something heavy and soft.

“What do you want?” Geralt asked, having felt his shoulders loosen slightly.  
“Some company,” Jaskier raised off his lap slightly and manoeuvred the bestiary out from under him. “Reading about plant-based monsters I see, not a lot of them.” He said, thumbing the page.  
“Hmm.” Geralt wasn’t about to admit he was looking for some to cut down in frustration.  
“I wasn’t expecting to meet Vesemir on my first night here,” Jaskier just changed the topic, Geralt noticed. “It was pretty late, and he just came to give Eskel and Lambert a chores list,” Jaskier snorted at the event, “He side-eyed me very hard before leaving. I think that’s as much acceptance as I will get for now.” He turned a page of the book, seemingly perusing but with clear faux interest.

Jaskier was treating the book like an object of interest they could stare at or even talk about if the conversation got stilted or tense. Geralt pondered over the effort Jaskier was putting into getting closer to him. Is this how he had worn down Eskel?

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed with Jaskier’s assessment of Vesemir. He wondered if Vesemir saw Jaskier before or after their talk last night. He wasn’t going to ask.

Jaskier’s eyes became unfocused, vaguely looking in the direction of the bookcase.

Geralt felt something brewing.

To Geralt’s horror, when Jaskier lost the dazed look from his eyes a smirk crept over his face and suddenly he didn’t look so soft anymore.

“Y’know, actually,” Jaskier began, “I’ve decided to become a historian.” He continued and tilted his head back. Geralt snorted. Jaskier seemed particularly delighted by the sound, his grin growing even bigger as he dropped his head down to look up at him from below his eyelashes.

Oh. Wait. No-

“You see I am especially interested in finding a date.”

Fuck.

Geralt decided to play dumb, “What sort of date?”

“The kind that could get me a Wolf.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Geralt had had enough. It was time to leave.

“You won’t find any dates regarding the wolf alchemical formula here, Cat.” Geralt delivered the blow as he stood up, the cat off his lap and onto the ground. A bit of distance could be good. Remind the Cat that he himself announced only just yesterday that he participates in subterfuge.

The taste of pomegranates on his tongue soured, like accidentally drinking off-milk and getting a huge chunk of it in your mouth. Geralt looked down at the Cat.

Tears were welling up in the corners of his eyes.

It was general knowledge, that the process of becoming a witcher dampened emotions, but what was also common knowledge is that the “improved” alchemical formula the cat school had made did the opposite of dampen, and by the time they realised it was too late, and the new cat witchers had overthrown the school, continuing the use of this new formula. It’s these new witchers that scared all the nobles and royalty into launching an attack on the cat school, which was very successful. There is still a fair amount around, scattered or in caravans, and Geralt wouldn’t be surprised if some of them knew the alchemical formula still.

What would surprise him is if they started to conjugate, and make new witchers.

That is to say, Geralt was pretty sure he was surprised right now.

Eskel said Jaskier was young, but Geralt was starting to realise with growing horror as he watched the other Witcher rub at his eyes in a failed attempt to contain his emotions, Jaskier might be _that young._ Lambert said that Aiden had a good handle on his emotions, that with age came control.

Geralt really took in Jaskier. Nicely tousled hair, not a scar on his face or hands, bright blue eyes, and a personality that was still warm and welcoming, ready to be broken by the world. This was a young man. A child, by witcher standards.

“You’re a child.” Geralt voiced his profound insight.  
“I’m not a child!” The newly discovered child cried. “I’m twenty-four! I’ve been an adult for ages now.”  
“Then stop crying.” Geralt tried to implore him.

How could Jaskier have saved Eskel from four angry griffins? How did he participate in subterfuge? Being a spy? Geralt had questions and he was pretty sure Eskel could answer them. But first, he had to deal with the still sniffling Cat.

He was torn between manhandling him into the chair or taking him with him to see Eskel. He had questions that need answers.

“No!” Jaskier slapped away Geralt’s hovering hands, “Stop it.”

Geralt, in reverse of when Jaskier was on his lap, was now holding his hands up to show Jaskier he meant no harm.

“No stop it!” Jaskier finally got on his feet. “I might be crying but I’m a witcher! Not a child. Stop looking at me like that.”

Geralt put his hands down. He didn’t really know how to proceed from here.

“I might not be as old as you but I am still an adult,” Jaskier said. He stood squarely, his face still splotchy but he wasn’t crying, just sniffling. “Understood?”  
“Hmm.” Geralt agreed, feeling berated.  
“I’m going to take that as a yes.” Jaskier was already understanding Geralt’s verbal cues. It was sort of weird how well Jaskier was reading him. “Now sit back down we were having a good time.” Jaskier crossed his arms, waiting.

Abort. Abort.

“I have chores.” Geralt managed to get out. He needed some space. To think. Talk to Eskel.  
“Alright.” Jaskier conceded though he looked doubtful. “I’ll be taking that chair then until Eskel fetches me for dinner. Will I be seeing you at dinner tonight?”

“Maybe.” Maybe. Geralt didn’t understand how Jaskier went from angry to calm so fast.

Geralt left, his brow furrowed. He needed to talk to Eskel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a system of highlighting writing green if I am happy with it the next day, or rewriting if I don't like it. But while editing this fic I was too anxious to do a full, proper reread of even the green stuff and basically pulled a "this is what I have written this is what I am submitting." Please enjoy.
> 
> Anyway I did not expect to be writing Jaskier sitting in Geralt's lap, and I didn't expect to stress about their age difference, which I am really going to try and write a healthy power balance, it hits a little close to home. But you can expect it to be explored a little more. This Geralt is younger, and this Jaskier older, than when they meet in Posada, but their age difference is still pretty huge and not something I see address a lot? I am going to do my best.
> 
> The original scene I had planned out and was working my way towards was the historian pick-up line. I also knew I wanted Jaskier to cry after Geralt tries to distance himself in a rather rude way because I wanted to talk about how Jaskier is one of the witchers who suffer from the alchemical formula that heightens emotions (this is a canon thing for the school of cats, you can read about it on their wiki page.) You might be reading Jaskier as this overemotional being right now, but he isn't irrational. Just like how Geralt wants to freely express himself more at Kaer Morhen, so does Jaskier. This is something I plan to explore more. 
> 
> Lastly I want to say a really big thank you to everyone who has commented, bookmarked, subscribed, and left kudos (and even checked out my Tumblr). It feels amazing to know that other people are enjoying what I write, and I have been gushing about it all to my family and friends.
> 
> See you next Friday!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Vesemir joins the Tease Geralt Team. It's not appreciated but at least Jaskier doesn't follow Geralt on all his chores.
> 
> Wait-

Geralt laid there that night, not really getting it. It was cold out, but under the furs and wool, Geralt was warm. The fire in his small fireplace was holding steady and Geralt was grateful that Vesemir made him chop all that wood last winter. It had the benefit of keeping his arms in shape but also paid off this winter. It’s moments like this, where his room is covered in a dusting of firelight and Geralt felt like a wolf in his den, safe, secure, and far away from the world, that he liked to think about things.

_“His age doesn’t really matter.” Eskel had told Geralt. “He is a witcher like us, he still slays monsters, gets stones chucked at him often, he knows the world is harsh Geralt. He isn’t some innocent child.”_   
_“Did he really save you?”_   
_Eskel straightened up at Geralt’s words. “Yes.”_   
_“Then why was he crying on the floor like a child. I’m supposed to believe he participates in espionage with that emotional control.” Geralt squinted at Eskel, and Eskel laughed._   
_“Do you think anyone outside these walls knows that you love horses?”_   
_“... No?” Where was this going?_   
_“Do you think that maybe, that’s because, how you act here is different than how you act out there?”_   
_Ah. “Why is he here Eskel?”_   
_Eskel swayed side to side a little before answering. “I travelled with him for a while after he saved me. I learned things about the School of Cat.”_   
_Geralt perked up._   
_“Try as the might, they just can’t get together long enough to properly teach their new witchers. He’s fast, agile, and every village he walks out of think about witchers a little better than before. He has a way with words, music even. He’s smart, Geralt. Cat or not, I think he will make an amazing witcher if he can just get some actual knowledge behind him.”_   
_“You brought him here to read.” Geralt was not amused._   
_“I brought him here because I thought he might learn something, and that so could we.” Eskel waved Geralt’s offending words away with his hand. “It’s also a bonus to have his good company. I like him,” Eskel walked over and patted Geralt on the shoulder. “I think you’ll find he has skills in areas you don’t Geralt.”_   
_Geralt grumbled. “Hard to imagine you being bested by anything Eskel.”_   
_“Nobody is prepared for four griffins.”_

Geralt mulled over Eskel’s words. That Jaskier had a way with words. Connected with people. Made people like and respect him, despite his witcher status.

“_Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?”_

Geralt didn’t see it. He rolled over and smushed his face into the furs.

* * *

Geralt woke up. The room was as cold as swimming in the Skellige sea during autumn at the very least. Geralt, after much deliberation, got out of his bed and looked out his window. The whole of Kaer Morhen was covered in a thick blanket of snow. Geralt was surprised he had slept through it falling.

Geralt opened the window. The colder air outside rushed into the room. It felt refreshing. As Geralt let his eyes linger over the towers and courtyards covered in white, he really felt at home. This is what relief looks like. This is what he comes home to every year, far away from  
The hateful comments of others.

When Geralt walked into the warm food hall for breakfast, he was in a good mood. Apparently, so was everyone else. Breakfast together today then.

“Sleeping beauty awakens!” Lambert cried out when Geralt walked in. “Just in time! Eskel is cooking up a storm.”

So Geralt could smell. He had chosen his room a little distance away from the main areas, but on his walk over he could smell the cooking. Pancakes. Geralt also knew that they had stored jam, and Eskel would probably be able to make fresh cream.

Vesemir was sitting on the bench furthest away from Lambert, but he still nodded at Geralt when they made eye contact. Things were normal. Things were good. Geralt nodded back.

“Did he complain about the lack of milk?” Geralt said, matching Lambert’s grin.  
“Oh boy, he had something to say when he realised but Lil’ Bleater came through so I think he’s letting it slide for now.”  
“Hmm.” Geralt hummed as he sat down opposite of Lambert. “Good weather.”  
“Good weather.” Lambert agreed. Probably to his dismay, Geralt mused. He knows Lambert would rather home be a different place if he could choose.  
“Good weather.” Vesemir also said from where he was.  
Lambert nodded. Geralt nodded. Vesemir nodded.

They were interrupted when instead of joining in on the nodding when he came in, Eskel instead whacked Geralt on the back of his head with his free hand.  
“You’re an ass.”  
“I’m a sleeping beauty.”  
“But also an ass.”

“Just give me the food already!” Lambert shook his fist. Eskel snorted as he put down a plate full of pancakes that had five extra plates underneath it.

Five.

Geralt felt his brow pinch.

Speaking of headaches.  
“What a horrible morning.” Cried the Cat. “I woke up freezing during the night and could barely pull myself out of bed when that delicious smell waft through my room. Why do you all look so happy?”

Geralt turned around to send the Nuisance a glare, but Jaskier started fanning himself.  
“Is it hot in here or is it just you?”  
No. Today will not be like yesterday. Or the day before that.  
“It’s hot in here.” Geralt replied cooly.  
“It’s Geralt.” Came Vesemir’s voice.

What?

Geralt turned quickly to look at the master witcher who was wearing his old grin, looking way too pleased.

Eskel wheezed, his hand landing on Geralt’s shoulder to steady himself. Lambert meanwhile looked like he himself had just been blessed as to have been flashed by Melitele’s tits.  
“I never knew. I never knew Vesemir had a funny bone. _I never knew_.” Lambert imparted his newfound knowledge. Geralt felt like chucking himself off the top of the keep and into the cold, cold snow below.

“Well if I didn’t feel warm before I certainly do now.” Jaskier fanned himself. Jaskier did indeed look a little red. Perhaps he was finally feeling shame about his recidivous behaviour. Probably not, Geralt lamented as he watched Jaskier slink into the space on the bench next to him. Jaskier was incorrigible. Geralt was very glad when everyone, sans Lambert who was still overcome by his revelation, to move on and eat breakfast.

“Eskel if I wasn’t already besotted by the beautiful white wolf beside me, I am sure I would be on my knees proposing to you right now,” Jaskier told Eskel. Geralt was glad the moaning had stopped and that Jaskier was using his words now.  
“I’ll believe it,” Eskel said, sending one of those half-smiles Jaskier’s way. He had sat down next to Lambert, across from Geralt and Jaskier, clearly wanting a good spot to witness Geralt murdering the boy beside him at some stage.

Before everyone finished, Vesemir started handing out chores for everyone, while Jaskier mysteriously vanished at the mention of ‘work’. Lambert getting things like making candles, dusting out common areas, and cleaning out fireplaces. Eskel’s tasks were fixing various things, taking stock, checking up on various rooms and buildings of Kaer Morhen.

Geralt got taking care of the horses, washing, and maintaining the armoury. A peaceful day then.

“Take Jaskier with you. He could learn a thing or two about horsemanship from you Geralt. It would also be a great boon if he could help with the washing. Moths have-”

Geralt stopped listening, his day already ruined.

* * *

It didn’t take long to find Jaskier after he scampered off. What did take long was Geralt putting it off by going and feeding the horses before he searched. A moment of peace to fuss over the horses out of the prying eyes of a Cat.

“Ah, Geralt! Breakfast was lovely but I thought it was time to do my morning routine,” Jaskier said with a flourish of his hands. Geralt thought that Jaskier wasn’t kidding anyone. “But now that that’s done,”

Geralt was prepared.

“I know you’re busy today but can you add me to your to-do list?”

_Geralt was so prepared._

“Follow me.” Geralt replied vaguely to Jaskier’s new pick-up line.  
“Wait what?” Jaskier’s whole face was red. “I never thought- gosh Geralt I know I was being straightforward but-” A sufficiently flustered Jaskier followed Geralt to the stables.

“Here?” Jaskier’s hands came up and covered a lot of his face.  
Geralt raised an eyebrow at Jaskier and grabbed a halter and long rope.  
“With those!” The shock on Jaskier’s face was truly priceless. Truly.  
Geralt turned his back on him and started getting Jaskier’s horse Pegasus ready to go out into the round pen. As much fun as it was to tease Jaskier, Geralt needed to start getting stuff done.  
“Geralt surely even you won’t do it in front of Pega- of you’re getting him out uh,” When Geralt turned to lead Pegasus out of his stall Jaskier stood in the doorway, his eyebrows pinched. “What are you doing? I’m a little lost.” The poor baby witcher.  
“You’re to learn how to lunge your horse, and then you are going to help me with washing. Vesemir’s orders.”

It was like sticking a hole into a gas-filled corpse. Except maybe not. Maybe something cuter. A pillow so filled to the brim with feathers that just one extra feather made it explode, leaving it’s empty case, deflated. Still standing in the doorway ready to be barreled over by witcher and horse if he doesn’t move.

“But it’s cold.” Came the sad excuse from Jaskier’s sorry face.  
“Yet you were prepared to go for a romp in the stables?” Geralt was inching forward, trying to signal to the confounded Cat that Geralt was trying to get through.  
“Well… I mean,” His face couldn’t be any redder, “Or clothes didn’t have to… come off necessarily?”  
“I see. Move.”  
“Move? Right right yes okay right.” Jaskier fumbled over his words as he finally moved out of Geralt’s way.

“It’s important to lunge your horse when you aren’t riding it.” Geralt had walked Jaskier through sending his horse to the railing of the pen, and how to position yourself correctly to help control the horse’s speed, how to stop, and how to change direction. “It lets you check for lameness, practice commands and obedience, and help keep your horse in balance.”  
“In balance?” Came Jaskier’s first question of the session. Geralt was actually surprised by how attentive and focused Jaskier was. Geralt was very pleased, and it seems like Jaskier was good at asking questions too.  
“We tend to get up, off, and walk with the horse on the left. Sometimes a horse can develop too much muscle on one side, and it throws their rhythm and gaits off.”  
“Whatever muscles you work out, you must also workout on the other side.” Jaskier lamented. A good transfer of knowledge, as it was essentially the same idea. A balance of strength between the muscles to maintain form and decrease possible injuries. Too many people became hunched from only working out their front muscles and not their back muscles.  
“Correct Jaskier.” Geralt praised him.  
“I did get _some_ training at my school.” Jaskier preened.  
“Hmm.” Geralt gave a small smile that Jaskier, thankfully, didn’t comment on or see.

Geralt then gave Jaskier a turn to lunge Pegasus before putting him back for the morning. Geralt also let Jaskier work with Vesemir’s dark grey mare, but he didn’t dare put him in the pen with Roach or Scorpion. Scorpion, being a purebred Kaedweni warhorse should, in theory, be a gentle giant, but he seems to have taken Eskel’s penchant for wearing spikes and applied it to his personality. And Roach was Roach.

As Geralt walked Scorpion out of the round pen, he was stopped by a stray snowflake feeling gently in front of him.

Geralt held out his hand and watched as it melted in his glove.

“If kisses were snowflakes, I’d send you a blizzard.”

Geralt turned Scorpion so his behind was lined up in Jaskier’s direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I have a few excuses about why this is coming out 2 AM on a Monday, and they are good excuses, but I won't bore you with the details. Just know that everything is back on track and the next chapter will come out on Friday, like it should. It has to.
> 
> Anyway There is like an extra 750 words (and two pick-up lines) planned for this chapter that uh, will be written in the next chapter. It felt awkward finding a place to end this chapter when there is so much more I wanted to write but I managed. I'm also bumping this up to an M rating, I feel like my jokes are a little too crude to be T.
> 
> Anyway some extra facts/headcanons for this fic you might not know about,  
\- Jaskier wears the Enhanced Feline Armour  
\- Jaskier's horse Pegasus is a Lippazan  
\- I had to decide on Lil' Bleater's gender because they don't have a wiki page from what I can find and I flipped a coin and landed on female so that's that. I also think Eskel being a goat farmer if he ever (unlikely) retired would be really cute.  
\- I don't see Lambert with a horse, so he doesn't get one. But why wouldn't a witcher have a horse? Clearly because he is scared of them. Someone wrote this headcanon I can't remember who but like heck am I not going with it  
\- Geralt is a horse girl, and as a horse girl I fully endorse this


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt thinks some. Thinks some more. Maybe even contemplates some.

Geralt sat in the washing room with Jaskier, showing him the various soaps they use to clean their clothes. Various non-scented soaps.

Jaskier has never looked so insulted. Geralt is sure of this to be true.

“No scents?” Jaskier repeated, his eyes wide as he stared at the very plain soap block in his hand.  
“Hmm.” Geralt affirmed. It was a hassle to try and find the right level of un-offensiveness, and it was good practice to smell like the earth and blend in with other scents around you, even if it wasn’t the most pleasant.  
“But…” Jaskier trailed off. “What about lavender?”  
Geralt shook his head.  
“Cedarwood? Helps keeps moths out of cloth you’ve put away.”  
A great idea but also, “No.”  
Jaskier bit his lip. Geralt raised an eyebrow.

There was a small huff from the Cat and then he leaned in.  
“Look,” Jaskier whispered. “Us cats tend to use things like chamomile and lavender to take the edge off, soothe the nerves,” He explained with a slow sweep of his hand as if he was petting something. “Y’know how us cats are.”  
Geralt hmmed, thoughtful. Indeed he did know what cat witchers were like. He supposed that they might have come up with some methods to manage their affliction. It probably wasn’t nice to feel every emotion that deeply. Geralt tucked this information away in his head. It would come in useful if he was able to prepare some calming scents he could use to help manage future encounters with cat witchers on the path. Maybe he could make whatever room Aiden will be staying in smell nice before he arrives, defuse a little into the main hall to really relax introductions. Lambert would probably appreciate that.

Wait a minute. It’s only been a few days with this cat and he was already thinking of inviting another.

Jaskier shivered under Geralt’s glare. As he should. How dare he make Geralt think about his school differently.  
“Look,” Jaskier said in a panicked tone, “I don’t know what it is about scented oils that offend you, but I don’t have to use them.”  
“Wasn’t that.” Geralt shushed him.  
“Oh. Okay then. Um.”  
Geralt took pity on him. “We have scented oils. We just don’t use them.”  
“But I can,” Jaskier slouched back with a pleased smile on his face, already guessing the hidden meaning under Geralt’s words, “Thank you,” The glare forgotten about, “I’ll try to keep it mellow.”

Geralt forwent saying anything, picking up a white undershirt and starting to wash it in the bucket. Jaskier followed suite.

For a minute.

“Hey, let’s play a game.”  
Geralt sighed and gave him a Look.  
“Let’s split the washing into two halves, and however finished their’s first is the winner.”  
“Winner of what exactly?” Geralt humoured him.  
“Well, the winner gets to date the loser.”

Geralt sincerely hoped that a griffin, or a basilisk, or a royal wyvern, just flies through the keep at some point sooner rather than later, and kills Geralt dead. Hopefully after lunch. Vesemir had hinted he was making couscous.

In spite of the high unlikeliness of those creatures coming to Geralt in his time of need (he certainly hadn’t come in theirs) he picked up the bucket of clothes and soapy water at went to splash Jaskier with it, however, Jaskier saw this coming and tried to stop him, resulting in this awkward and brief moment in which the water sloshed forward onto Jaskier and then went and splosh back on to Geralt, soaking them both. Jaskier, more so his shirt and Geralt, his leather pants.

Wet leather, no matter how soft, was just not a good feeling, the Cat’s hysterical and borderline infectious laughter as of current notwithstanding. See, Geralt was having flashbacks to when he wore his first pair during summer, and how his sweat had made it stick to him like a whore to a wealthy man. Hard to peel off.

Worse yet. Wet clothes stepping outside in negative degrees. Thank the gods, for the small miracle which was that Geralt’s room was just a few connected corridors and stairs away, and he wouldn’t have to step outside to change.

Geralt turned away from Jaskier and headed to the doorway  
“Where are you going?” The Goon laughed.  
“To get out of these wet pants.” Geralt somewhat complained to him.  
“Which is easier? You getting into those tight pants or getting you out of them?” The line was delivered smoothly despite the peels of laughter.

Geralt just continued to waddle away, he was switching laundry for something else with Eskel.

* * *

Geralt sat on the cold stone floor of the armoury. ‘Taking stock’ apparently also meant taking care of the weapons armour, and shields (not that it was often that a Witcher ever used one) and checking them over for rust, dullness, water damage, and moths. Quality inspection. There were a lot of swords to sort through. Some from the law of surprise, some from legendary witchers and swordsmen, a lot that are magic infused. There were also a lot of daggers. Witchers use them to cut off the heads of their contracts and to gut monsters and animals for ingredients. Geralt snagged one of the daggers in good condition.

Geralt was starting to feel like he was getting the short stick of this deal, but his second pair of warm leather pants reminded him otherwise. These ones were dark brown with brown side strips. They looked a little more like Jaskier’s pants from yesterday he frowned. That was no good. that felt like a pick-up line waiting to happen.

The silence was good while it lasted. Geralt was able to get a little lost in fond memories of training swords he picked up and had fun reciting the legendary sword names he knew were in the armoury and then finding the blade. Sadly like most good things, it all came to an end and Geralt sat in the now tidier armoury, waiting for lunch to roll around. Geralt loved his brothers but after so many months of being on the road alone, it was hard to readjust to living with people, no matter how many times he came back to Kaer Morhen it was always the same slow steps to being truly comfortable again. It was frustrating. Geralt wishes he could just come back and greet his brothers with open arms, and not feel like absconding as soon as it ended and everyone started to talk. Eat every meal in the dining hall and not feel like he needed to go off with his food and eat alone.

Loneliness had seeped into Geralt’s bones, into his very core. It was a disease he couldn’t shake, an acid he so use to burning him he never realised when he had the tools to finally stop it. It would come back anyway when he stepped into the first town come spring, so many small scars covering Geralt’s body that were from sharp rocks.

Come time for lunch, Geralt dragged himself to the dining hall.

Eskel sat in his usual place, on Geralt’s side of the table, further down from Geralt, but further up from Vesemir, who also sat in his usual place, on Lambert’s side of the table. Lambert wasn’t here yet, and Geralt was curious if he would sit in front of Geralt again, Eskel, or somewhere in-between. It was always easy to read the room. Sometimes deeper into the winter they would all squish together, be closer. But that was always later, never straight away. For now, everyone spaces out, even Geralt, who sits extra further away from everyone this lunch.

But not Jaskier.

“Is that a mirror in you’re pocket? Because I can see myself in your pants!” Jaskier takes notice of Geralt’s similar pants to the Cat. Geralt was expecting this pick-up line in a way, so when he delivered the line Geralt whipped out the dagger he had stashed in his pants and pretended to check his reflection in the metal. He felt something ease slightly when Jaskier just laughed. What he wasn’t expecting was for Jaskier to sit in the middle of the big space between Geralt and Eskel. Geralt can tell that Jaskier read the room and had really tried to take into consideration how much space everyone had between them. while Geralt would have preferred more space, it was a good compromise, and Geralt was appreciative. Geralt was even more appreciative when Lambert decided to set up in front of Jaskier instead of Geralt.

Vesemir brought out the food and it was indeed couscous. It was a mostly peaceful lunch, Lambert and Jaskier filling the silence.

“I’m the baby of the wolves. Apparently almost half a century means nothing to these ancient relics of the past.” Lambert complained to Jaskier waving his hand in Vesemir and Eskel’s direction.  
“Ha. I know what you mean. Geralt and Eskel both had a meltdown when they found out I was twenty-four.”

Vesemir chokes on his drink. Lambert is overjoyed.

“I’m not the baby anymore!” He celebrated and high-fived Jaskier.

Geralt watched as Eskel avoided making eye-contact with Vesemir.  
“Eskel,” Vesemir growled. “He’s twenty-four.”  
“Not you too!” Jaskier cried out in protest.  
“The School of Cat still have their alchemical formula,” Eskel said to the wall near Vesemir.  
“You could have said something,” Vesemir said to Eskel.  
“You wouldn’t let me,” Eskel replied. They both stopped looking at each other. A different type of tension.  
“So they still have their keep then?” Vesemir tried to dig a little deeper.  
“No.” Came Eskel’s curt response.  
“I see.”

Geralt got the feeling that Jaskier would be accompanying him and Eskel on more than just chores. Probably sparring. And a few trips to the library. With Vesemir in tow.

Hmm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I think I would get to chapter 5? I honestly didn't think it would be 5 chapters long and yet here we are, with a minimum of 8 chapters planned and already ironing out a squeal.
> 
> Storytime. I attended this writing bootcamp once and I was told that while my dialogue was spot on, I was lacking a lot of worldbuilding. Something that everyone else was sometimes overcompensating with, I didn't have enough of.
> 
> Which I do see, I love it when characters chat, it's what I enjoy writing. But I am lacking that internal monologuing and worldbuilding that really fill out and provide the body of a text. I feel too straight to the point with my writing, more like I'm writing a script or short comedy instead of something with actual... 'meat' behind it. It's something I'm going to be focusing a lot on, so I'm sorry if my writing style and pacing fluctuates a bit, I'm still trying to improve and sadly that means inconsistency.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy some deeper insight into Geralt's thoughts, troubles and characterisation. This Geralt very Netflix but also very Game!Geralt because I love both very deeply. Also, I imagine that no matter how many times you come back to a safe space, spending months on end every year getting treated like a monster as you travel around solo, sitting in corners and sleeping outside because innkeepers won't let you stay, takes a big toll on how easily you reconnect with others as well as that softer, more vulnerable side of yourself.
> 
> I'm posting this at 11:59, but I did do a quick read over and stuff so hopefully it isn't too bad quality (´,,•ω•,,)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier had been acting strange. Geralt tries his hardest to talk about it with him.
> 
> They end up getting drunk.

Geralt was feeling very strange.

Jaskier hadn’t been firing pick-up lines at him a few days now. He had been busy, improving his horsemanship (and his horse) and doing various chores with Geralt, learning School of Wolf fighting techniques and practising signs with Eskel, as well as studying the bestiary and geography with Vesemir. It was a lot of work, particularly when it was supposed to be a time of rest, but to Jaskier’s credit, he seemed to soak up all the new knowledge like a sponge. He realised early on that Geralt knew his stuff when it came to horses, and hung onto every correction and praised Geralt gave. He was always impressed with anything Eskel did and always was cheerful during sparring with any of the witchers. Jaskier made great friends with Lambert, who was always bragging about Aiden to him. Jaskier took it in stride, even offering information about cats that could help Lambert get a little closer to Aiden. He was even a good listener when it came to library sessions with Vesemir, and did any homework Vesemir set.

Jaskier was in his element it seemed. So why is it that come to any downtime, Jaskier was withdrawn? He didn’t flirt, and when he did hang around it was half-hearted. Most of the time, Jaskier seemed to float back to his bedroom, a dark cloud hanging over his head.

Geralt was invested. Geralt was in over his head. Geralt knew, that come to the end of winter and everyone sets off onto the path again, Geralt would expect everyone here now, back at Kaer Morhen come next winter. Maybe add one. Or two, if Coën decided to show up next time. Probably three, if they come across any more stray cats that needed some TLC.

But that was beside the point. Geralt could tell something was wrong with Jaskier and someone needed to talk to him about it. That person was probably Geralt. Vesemir often tries out the ‘tough it out’ approach, Eskel was in Jaskier’s corner, but Geralt felt that he should be in Jaskier’s corner, and it was a bit awkward going to Eskel for help with Jaskier. Embarrassing might be a better description. Eskel didn’t know how much Jaskier had grown on Geralt. And while yes, Lambert can be very open with his feelings, he also is comforted and also comforts by being cynical. Geralt gets the feeling while it can be very cathartic to rant about how horrible things are, there is a time, a place, and a person to do that with, and Jaskier ticks none of those boxes. Jaskier’s feelings are big, Jaskier’s feelings are delicate and to be treated with care. So Geralt doesn’t understand why Jaskier’s feelings are being very, very quiet. Too quiet for someone who is always loud, whistling tunes, citing poetry that is deep and moving, even singing songs while playing that lute of his. So loud but all his feelings yet he keeps these ones close to his chest, pulling away?

Geralt is having none of it. There is sun shining in this cold castle, melting all the snow, and Geralt won’t let it go dim.

Oh gods. Jaskier’s poetry and prose are rubbing off on Geralt. He is in over his head.

But…

* * *

Geralt’s first attempt didn’t go over so well.

It was after another horsemanship lesson. Jaskier had already come a long way since they started. Pegasus too. Once again, however, by the time the lesson wraps up, Jaskier is once again acting all melancholic.

“So,” Geralt says, leaning against the box stall’s doorframe, trapping Jaskier in the stall with Pegasus, “The weather has been really grey lately?”

Fuck.

“I guess?” Jaskier replied, glancing past Geralt briefly with a lean to the side, clueing in to the fact that he is boxed in. “I would describe it more as a slow and steady siege of white snowflakes, surrounding us in a sense of solitude.”

Iteration, Jaskier has explained to Geralt, was something Jaskier loved to do. Geralt was briefly glad for the poetry but the overwhelming sense of doom and defeat was drowning it out as Geralt struggled to find a way to bring the topic to Jaskier’s grey mood because Jaskier’s grey horse was not appreciating the two of them sticking around after a morning session of hard work, and was now gnawing on Geralt.

Geralt debated moving. On one hand, Geralt’s clothes wouldn’t need fixing, on the other hand, Jaskier could slip away, the sly and slinky thing he is.

“Hey, Geralt, not that I don’t love our talks,” Jaskier slowly slid forward to Geralt, avoiding Pegasus’s teethful vendetta, “But Vesemir as invited me to go over some stuff in the library and he really won’t believe me if I tell him that it was you who made me late.” And with a pat on Geralt’s shoulder, he slithered past.

That man may be all limbs but he was an eel through and through.

Geralt was a failure. He has Eskel’d himself. He had approached too lightly, been too indirect, too awkward about it, and his prey had gotten away.

He’ll get him next time. Later if not tomorrow.

* * *

Geralt’s next opportunity came and went. One minute Geralt was trying to find the right words to say to a Jaskier signing a tune about heartbreak and the next Lambert had whisked the would-be bard away for chatting about conquest that had Jaskier laughing all high pitched like as he swayed his head back and forth with ‘y’knows’ and ‘wow really? Samesesses’  
Geralt stood in the archway, left behind.

Third time was the charm. Well, it was more of an accident than a deliberate attempt.

A dinner that Vesemir left early, his old bones creaking in the cold as he muttered about moving to somewhere warmed. With no adult supervision (Eskel didn’t count), Lambert whipped a crate of White Gull.

“Lambert no,” Eskel tried to reason with Commonly Unreasonable, “Wait for the middle of the season to start drinking. Ration it out more.”  
“Lambert yes!” Jaskier interceded, grabbing a bottle off of Lambert. “Wait, where’s the label? What is this?”  
Lambert laughed and Eskel gave them both an exasperated sigh, shaking his head before he too took a bottle.  
“What?” Lambert said, “Never heard of White Gull?”  
“I’ve attended many parties with brands and types of alcohol the commoner could only dream about, but I’ve never come across White Gull before,” Jaskier said in reply, taking off the lid and giving the White Gull a sniff and wrinkling his nose.  
“Ha, and I bet you’ve never been truly drunk at one either.” Lambert sneered as he opened his own bottle and pouring himself a glass.  
“White Gull is the drink of witchers,” Eskel answered Jaskier’s question. “It’s not as strong as Black Gull, but we use that mainly to enhance potions.”

“You’ve used Black Gull before Jaskier.” Geralt decided to finally chime in. “It’s the dark liquid in the bottle with the white wrapping.” Geralt recalled the recent potion brewing session Jaskier had joined impromptu. When Geralt had replied ‘making potions’ to Jaskier’s ‘what are you doing’ Geralt was blindsided by the reply of ‘oh poisons’. Jaskier’s fragmented teaching had focused a little more on how to slay humans discreetly, and left him unable to brew a simple Swallow potion. Geralt had turned the whole thing into a lesson. He may have missed out on fighting lessons with Eskel but when Geralt explained the dire situation to hi,, Eskel grimaced and nodded his head in understanding.

“Oh that stuff.” Jaskier frowned. “It smelt atrocious. This is much nice by far.”  
“Agreed,” Lambert finished picked up his glass. Geralt wondered how long he would last before just taking swigs from the bottle. “And on that note, cheers!”

Honestly, Geralt should have seen it coming.

One too many drinks and bad ideas later, Eskel was missing, probably in a bout of faux-sobriety realised he wanted to see Lil’ Bleater, Lambert had stolen Vesemir’s favourite sword and hid it somewhere before heading off to find Eskel, Jaskier had somehow crawled into Geralt’s lap, Geralt just realised, and everyone was somewhat hoarse from singing along to Jaskier playing various older ballads and ditties that the witchers in the room were familiar with.  
Oh, and the party had apparently moved to the roof at one stage. Geralt vaguely remembered an argument being made that a clear sky on such a beautiful mountain shouldn’t be missed. A bad idea, Geralt realised now that some semblance of coherency returned to him.

It was a strange feeling, having someone cuddled up to you, as you sit together on a roof under the stars.

It felt a bit… roma- hmm. It felt. Well, it felt nice, Geralt conceded. It felt nice. It often did, when it was just Geralt and Jaskier, alone. Together.

Hmmm.

“I haven’t been the drunk since…” Came the slurred and somewhat sleepy voice in Geralt’s lap, “Since that time I snuck liquor during my parent’s dinner party.”

Geralt just let the words Jaskier said wash over him like a slow and gentle wave, no tension, staying just as relaxed as before Jaskier said that.

“Dinner parties? Sounds stuffy, no one should suffer that sober.” Geralt tried to joke somewhat and was relieved when the jest was met with a chuckle.  
“I was trying to impress the important nobles that had come over,” Jaskier said in an ambivalent tone, wriggling so his back was against Geralt’s chest to get a better look at the stars.  
“Did it work?”  
“Not even slightly.”  
Geralt grinned, imagining a young Jaskier at a banquet table having trouble sitting in his seat. Jaskier must have felt something shift or move in some way because he leaned forward so he could turn and get a better look at Geralt’s face.

“Did the sun come out or did you just smile at me?” Jaskier murmured. Geralt just rolled his eyes and pulled Jaskier back into his chest.

There was a minute of content silence full of leftover warmth from the booze. Of Jaskier relaxing into Geralt and Geralt into him. Eventually though, Jaskier, forever alive and unable to keep still for too long, rearranged himself in Geralt’s lap again. Too much wiggling Geralt mused.

“Do you ever miss it?” Jaskier whispered, his gaze sweeping up and away from the horizon to stare at Geralt’s face again. “Do you ever miss home?”  
“I am home, Jaskier.”  
“No like, your home before all,” he waved one of his hands around, “Before all this?”  
Geralt took a small pause at the words. “I don’t remember much.” Geralt admitted. “And what I do makes me bitter.”  
“How come?” Jaskier asked, giving Geralt a soft and tender frown. Geralt felt the urge to soothe it out with his hand.  
“My mother wasn’t on hard times, I wasn’t a child surprise. She just left me here. Sometimes I resent her for it, other times it is what it is, was what it was.”  
“Oh Geralt.” Jaskier came in closer, a proper face-in-shoulder hug. His voice full of sorrow, his throat clenched. Geralt tightened his arm around him.  
“You miss home.”  
“I do.” Came Jaskier’s shaky confirmation. “I’m sorry.” He began to cry, and Geralt rubbed circles into his back. “I’m sorry.”  
“You’re allowed to miss home, Jaskier.”  
“That’s not-” Jaskier chocked on his words, “That’s not it though. I’ve been so ungrateful.” Geralt kept rubbing circles. “I’ve come into your home, caused tension, and yet everyone has been so accommodating and helping me out so much. Fuck Geralt, I’ve been learning so much but all I can think about is how if I never became a witcher I could have studied at university like I was suppose to, how I could be so much more then this.” Jaskier pulled away slightly and looked Geralt in the eyes for a beat before looking away again. “But you are nothing short of amazing. Vesemir is just the whirlpool of information, Eskel is so talented and practised, Lambert is bitter and full of fire, and Geralt you are amazing.” A smile graced Jaskier’s teary face. “You’re passionate and kind, and good with animals and quick thinking and you talk to your horse. Who talks to their horse?” Jaskier hands had wondered from holding onto Geralt’s shoulders to fisting the collar of Geralt’s shirt.

“Ha,” Jaskier gave a bitter laugh, “Here I thought that the infamous Geralt of Rivia, Butcher of Blaviken I had heard about was just as emotionless and ruthless as was rumoured. I thought I would be proven right when I got here. That witchers were horrible and that I wasn’t supposed to be one.” Jaskier’s bottom lip wobbled. “I was wrong. Out walks this wet dream of a man and he can’t even handle a pick-up line because Melitele’s tits, he’s actually shy.”

Jaskier gave Geralt a hysterical look and Geralt tried his very best not to give his version of that look in return.

Jaskier’s rant had crashed over Geralt like the rouge waves in Skellige that would just appear and sink ships. Geralt was sinking.

Geralt couldn’t explain what he was feeling right now. A little betrayed? Geralt knew it was a possibility that the new witcher could have entered with bad intentions. But this? This wasn’t that. It was bad, but it was personal to Jaskier. Prejudice. Yet. But. Hmmm. Geralt does understand. Being a witcher isn’t a blessing, it isn’t necessarily a choice for the many children that end up in witcher keeps, and it can be hard to justify what had happened to you to be made into one, and what will happen to you. Nobody wishes to be a witcher, it’s just something that happens to you.

Geralt got it. He understood.

“I’m sorry.” Jaskier sobbed at Geralt’s silence. “I’m so sorry.”  
“Hmm.” Geralt resumed rubbing the circles he can’t remember stopping.  
“I’ve clearly been fed lies. I thought other witchers would be horrible unfeeling monsters. I thought…” Jaskier shook his head. “I’m sorry.”  
Ah, Geralt realised. Fucking cat witchers. Trust them to spin it like that to their new additions. “Hmmmm.” Geralt gave Jaskier a few pats on the back before again resuming the circles. Other direction this time. Spice it up a little.  
“Say something.” Jaskier tugged on Geralt’s shirt.

But what to say? Jaskier’s words hurt Geralt but here Jaskier was now, pouring his heart out, feeling guilty.

“Don’t worry about it.”  
This was very clearly not what Jaskier was expecting to hear by the look on his face, so Geralt tried to expand on it a little.  
“It happens.”

That didn’t seem to help.

“It happens?” Jaskier asked in a voice that was only slightly wobbly.  
“Hmm.” Geralt really wished he could articulate himself better. “Being a witcher happens to you.”

Jaskier held Geralt’s eyes as he gave a slow nod, urging him to continue explaining.

“It isn’t fair.” Geralt finally landed. “Being a witcher happens to you, and it isn’t fair. So don’t worry about it.”  
“Don’t worry about it.” Jaskier parroted. A light frown gracing his tear-stained features as he breathed at a more normal rate instead of those chest-full sobs. Geralt watched as slowly Jaskier’s face became brighter and brighter. Maybe it was the sun rays finally peeking over the horizon and painting Jaskier’s face. Maybe Geralt’s words had somehow managed to reach him. Either way, it had dawned on Jaskier.

Geralt felt some of his mouth muscles twitch at his own pun.

A deep sigh came out of Jaskier and then he bedazzled Geralt with a tired but happy smile.  
“Every day you surprise me more and more Geralt,” Jaskier leaned a little closer to Geralt, having leaned away from him during his heartfelt spill before. Geralt raised the hand that wasn’t on Jaskier’s back up to his the Cat’s face, rubbing a thumb over Jaskier’s wet cheekbone. “Every day I fall just a little bit more and more, just a little bit…” Jaskier’s eyes dropped down to Geralt’s lips ever so briefly before he squeezed them shut and planted his face into Geralt’s shoulder.

The last four words were muffled, but they may as well have been spoken into his ear for how clearly Geralt felt them. Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier and took some time to really feel this moment, to gaze upon the sunset, feel the cold wind blowing around them, the weight of Jaskier in his lap, how it was warm where their bodies made contact.

Geralt couldn’t really reply to Jaskier. Something was there, but it was still too early for Geralt. Too much too soon. But from the way Jaskier had relaxed into Geralt’s arms once again, Geralt figured he must not be too worried about a reply.

It wasn’t until the sun was hanging above the horizon that Geralt finally suggested to Jaskier that they should go to bed.

“I’m having trouble sleeping by myself, can you sleep with me?”

Geralt rolled his eyes and let out a huff.

“Are you sure? My mattress is a little hard. Would you like to help me break it in?”

Geralt pushed Jaskier out of his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I'm sorry this took so long to post, and that I sort of turned into a ghost too. If you want a bit more of an in-depth explanation as to what you can visit my Tumblr which I will link at the bottom. Be warned, it's a little personal and sad, probably a TMI. But in other words I should be rejoining the land of the living.
> 
> I feel like my writing changed halfway through, please forgive me if it doesn't flow as well. Also apparently teethful isn't a word, only toothful. Which I believe is bogus so I used it anyway. Horses have teeth not tooths.
> 
> Also when I wrote "He’ll get him next time." I was just astral projected into losing a match of black ops 2.
> 
> Also also, I suspect people in the Witcher universe probably were much more lenient with children drinking alcohol? So Jaskier drinking when he was like, 9 or 10 was more of a "if you get drunk you'll embarrass us" situation not a "oh no the dangers of underage drinking!!!"
> 
> Also do people prefer space between dialogue like
> 
> "words words words"
> 
> "ah yes words"
> 
> or
> 
> "a blah blah blah blah blah"  
"a blah?"
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/darkestaffinitywrites


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